


Not Another Twilight AU

by ipreferaviators



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crack, M/M, Notfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipreferaviators/pseuds/ipreferaviators
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles is 17, scarlet fever invades his town and takes first his mom, then his dad. He gets sick not long after, and that's how Chris finds him: pissed off and dying and thinking that life really fucked him over. Then Chris bites him, and Stiles doesn't have to worry about being sick ever again. He just has to worry about not killing anyone, because now he's a vampire, and all Stiles can think is that life is really creative about this whole fucking-over business.</p><p>(In which Stiles is not Edward, Derek is not Jacob, and mary sues are appropriately named "Mary.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Another Twilight AU

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to god, this was supposed to be really short crack. But I am incapable of writing anything without epic fuckloads of angst, so when I set out to write a hilarious Twilight!AU in which Stiles is Edward, I end up with nearly 5k of depressing ridiculousness. 
> 
> I still stand behind my original premise that maybe Edward was actually really super talkative and awkward, and Bella only thought he was stoic because he held his breath around her all the time.
> 
> [Warning for suicidal thoughts and behavior, though no graphic description of any attempt.]

When Stiles is 17, scarlet fever invades his town and takes first his mom, then his dad. He gets sick not long after, and that's how Chris finds him: pissed off and dying and thinking that life really fucked him over. Then Chris bites him, and Stiles doesn't have to worry about being sick ever again. He just has to worry about not killing anyone, because now he's a vampire, and all Stiles can think is that life is really creative about this whole fucking-over business.

Vampirism doesn't sit well with Stiles in the beginning. He can't control his thirst, but every time he kills he feels broken up about it for weeks. He runs away from Chris, because the whole thing is his goddamn fault, but he finds that it's even harder alone. He tries to off himself a few times, half out of desperation and half out of curiosity. He thinks about the Volturi, but they're really far away and Stiles never really learned too many marketable skills. He spends a lot of time wandering around in the woods of North Dakota, trying to avoid people and come to terms with himself. His thoughts aren't as hard to manage as they used to be, it's easier to focus, but he can't seem to find anything worth focusing on. It's not his best few years, he'll admit.

He goes back to Chris, travels with him as they pick up some more "family members" along the way. There's Allison, who Chris immediately takes to as a father to a daughter. Scott, who seems kind of ridiculous but quickly becomes Stiles's best friend (and eventually, after a stand-off with Chris--wasn't that a fun year in the Argent household--Allison's boyfriend). Lydia--oh, Lydia. Stiles falls for her hard and fast, but Lydia can see the future, and she knows there's someone else for her. Stiles tries not to take it too hard, because he can sort of read minds (not too clear, but it's part of why he can't kill without feeling sick--he can hear their thoughts, feel their fear, and he knows deep down that it makes him a monster) and he knows how serious she's going to be about this guy. Jackson, when he shows up, is kind of a dick, but he and Lydia are totally in love and Stiles can't bear to get in the way.

He wonders if there's someone out there for him, but that thought leads him into a downward spiral of depression and self-hatred that even Scott can't help. Stiles pulls back from their little family, not wanting to disrupt the happiness they've all got going on, and every day it feels harder and harder not to give in to the thirst. He can't, though, because he can't stand any more death on his conscience. He has waking nightmares, hearing the thoughts and words of his victims over and over in his mind, as loud and clear as if they're all standing right in front of him. He thinks he's going crazy.

He starts to take walks in the woods, just to get away from the oppressively cheerful thoughts of his companions. That's when he hears about it--strange animal attacks, wolves that are too large to be normal. The campers are visiting from Northern California, and the attacks are apparently going on outside a small town called Beacon Hills. Stiles knows what they don't. Chris didn't let him go long without a few introductory lessons in The Truth About Supernatural Beings, so Stiles knows the signs of werewolves. He also knows the damage werewolves can do to vampires, and it seems like the perfect solution.

He goes to Beacon Hills. He doesn't tell anyone, but he knows Lydia will see it soon, so has to work fast.

He follows the scent of the alpha (wet dog and anger, mostly), and it takes him to a shack-like garage near the coast. The rest of the Argent clan are probably less than a few hours away, so he doesn't waste time. He walks in, easily and openly, sparing a single glance for the phenomenal ass on the guy currently leaned over a motorcycle, and just says "I need you to rip my throat out with your teeth."

It doesn't go quite like Stiles planned.

The alpha ("Derek," someone calls him, when they get interrupted before Stiles can make his argument) point blank refuses to kill Stiles. Apparently there's some treaty on the land between the werewolves and some vampires that used to live nearby, and even though the vampires are long gone, Derek refuses to break it.

"Dude, but I'm actually asking you to," Stiles presses. The flashes are getting worse, making him almost drive off a cliff on his way to Beacon Hills. He would have been fine, but he might have hurt someone else, and the whole point of this is making sure he can't hurt anyone else, ever. He had hoped the werewolves would understand, even agree.  
"Don't care," Derek says, wiping his hands on a rag and turning back to the motorcycle.

"I can't do this anymore," Stiles starts to say, but he stops. He doesn't want to give the wolf any reason to hate the rest of his kind; if he makes out that vampires can't control themselves, can't blend in with normal society without being a danger to others, that could result in exactly the kind of harm he's trying to avoid. Fuck, he can't even die right.

"I hate you," Stiles says.

"Feel free," Derek replies without turning around.

Stiles leaves. He makes it as far as the edge of town before the peanut gallery shows up, a parade of ridiculous cars and angry yelling. Scott pulls Stiles into a giant hug and refuses to let go, Allison cries at him, Chris looks disappointed, and Lydia just shakes her head, lips tight. Jackson cuffs the back of his head, saying that if Stiles wanted someone to beat him up, he should have just asked. Stiles cries right along with Allison, but he can't bring himself to say anything. He still doesn't know if he can keep going, but he'll try. For them, he'll keep trying.

**

They stay in Beacon Hills. Chris says it's because they needed to move anyway, and it's as good a place as any. Stiles can hear them thinking that it's because if they're all here, they can make sure he doesn't try and get Derek to kill him again. Which he doesn't. He went back every day for a week, asking again and again, but his heart wasn't in it anymore. Derek stopped bothering to refuse after the third day, instead asking Stiles to hand him a wrench, or a screwdriver, or to turn on the radio. Eventually, Stiles stops asking, but he doesn't stop going. He gets to know the other wolves, who all look at him with a pure form of disgust that make him think they don't agree with Derek's original decision. He sometimes bakes them cookies, or brings Chinese takeout, though, and they start to warm up to him. It's a small pack, smaller than Stiles expected: just Derek, his two sisters (Laura and Cora), Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. Once, over brownies, Isaac lets it slip that the animal attacks Stiles heard about were Derek's uncle, Peter, who went feral after the rest of their family was killed in a housefire. Laura had been the alpha, but Peter attacked her and it took all her energy to heal, and somehow the alpha powers transferred to Derek. Stiles showed up right after it all went down, when Derek was still getting used to his new status, and when the stench of death was still strong between them. Stiles feels a little guilty, so he brings Derek oatmeal cookies the next day.

It's just calming, in the pack house. His mind-reading powers don't work on werewolves, and they don't smell like food. They kind of smell like the dog Stiles had as a kid, which shouldn't be as comforting as it is. And somewhere along the way, the nightmares ease up. Stiles isn't sure if it's having his family so close by, all their thoughts focused on making him okay again, Derek's easy presence, his growing friendship with Derek's pack, or a combination of the three. But less than three months after Stiles ran to Beacon Hills, he feels like maybe it's home.

School starts, though, and because everyone but Chris looks under eighteen, they all enroll as juniors at Beacon Hills High School. It's an assault on Stiles's senses; there's so much noise, so many thoughts, so much blood pumping through arteries and veins. He's never been as good with crowds as his adopted siblings, and he'd managed to avoid going to school most of the places they'd been. But Beacon Hills is a classic small town, and people would talk if he just didn't go. Scott understands, since it took him a while to really feel in control of himself, so they make sure to get in all the same classes. Scott plays bodyguard, Allison mothers him, and Lydia and Jackson take turns rolling their eyes and sharing concerned looks. Stiles settles in, though, after a while. He's still quieter than normal--it's easier to ignore the smell if he doesn't talk, and sometimes it's hard to keep track of his own thoughts when everyone else's are milling around in his head. But he's there, and he's not hurting anyone, so he counts it as a win.

He doesn't get to see Derek as much, but he still stops by every weekend. Derek talks about as much during those times as Stiles does at school, so Stiles starts to take notes about how to look stoic and pained and intimidating. Jackson says he looks constipated, but Allison pats his shoulder and says it's very effective. Stiles scowls at her, but he can hear the whispered thoughts of the other students, wondering who he thinks he is, why no one else at school is good enough for him, why his only friends are the other members of his freaky family sex cult. He tells everybody about the sex cult thing one night, and gets a good laugh out of their reaction, but he never tries to answer the accompanying questions. Surprisingly, he's not alone because he hates himself, or at least not like he used to. He still doesn't want to date anyone at the school, though. Because none of them are Derek.

Yeah. Stiles is a vampire, and he has fallen for an alpha werewolf, because that's just the way his life works.

**

Mary shows up the next March. She's the first new student since they arrived almost a year earlier, so the whole town is buzzing with the news. Her dad is the sheriff, and she apparently spent some time here growing up but hasn't been back in a few years. She's pretty, and smells really good (both food-wise and girl-wise), and Stiles treats her like he treats everyone else: he ignores her. She does not, however, ignore him back. She's just always there, wherever Stiles is, and it's kind of annoying. What's even more annoying is that he can't hear her thoughts, so he doesn't know if she's trying to date him, trying to be his friend, or trying to get on his nerves. Stiles settles on letting her do whatever it is she's going to do, without encouraging her, until he can figure it out.

Lydia says that he's an idiot, that Mary is obviously falling for him. Stiles doesn't understand how she could, as he's said maybe three words to her since they met. Lydia rolls her eyes and pointedly thinks "yeah, like that makes a difference, Stiles," before walking away. Stiles pretends he doesn't know what she means.

Things with Mary come to a head when she nearly gets herself smashed by a car. Stiles feels a little guilty for apparently leading her on for a month, and he can't stop his gut reaction to keep her from getting hurt. He looks at his hand, at the dent in the suburban, at Mary's totally-still-alive face, and feels for half a second like a superhero. But then reality sinks in, and he realizes just how much he fucked up. Chris yells at him, Jackson yells at him, Scott makes the sad puppy eyes, and Lydia's thoughts are just one long stream of curse words. Allison thinks it's adorable, and Stiles can't bear to tell her that he didn't exactly mean anything by it, he just couldn't stand watching someone else get hurt.

Mary is still a problem, though, because she saw the whole thing happen and won't listen to story Chris made up (and Stiles obediently told) about how Stiles could have possibly saved her. She keeps trying to bring it up, stalking Stiles around the school and asking pointed questions. Stiles tries to give little hints, things that aren't exactly telling her everything but still might ward her off. She doesn't seem to understand, or she doesn't care. In a fit of frustration, Stiles pulls her aside one day and just lays it all out. It's the most he's said to her since she moved to town, and Stiles intends it to be their last conversation ever. It's not.

Derek, for his part, finds the whole thing hilarious. Stiles scowls at him a lot and deliberately hands him the wrong size wrench. Derek throws the wrench at his head and tells him to go talk to Cora, if he's going to complain about his love life. Stiles tries to argue both that he doesn't have a love life, and that it's sexist for Derek to assume Cora wants to hear about just because she's a girl, but then there are more wrenches flying through the air and Stiles retreats. They may not do permanent damage, but high-velocity metal is still annoying. Plus, Stiles can totally tell when his presence is not wanted. Unlike a certain someone.

**

Mary's still around in June, after school gets out for the summer. She tries to convince Stiles to bite her, saying that's she's always felt like she didn't belong, that she thinks maybe she was meant to be a vampire. Stiles still doesn't like opening his mouth in front of her (she really does smell delicious), but he tries to make it clear that no one wants this. No one should want this. It's awful, and he's killed people, and the fact that she sees taking the first step towards an eternity of being a monster as a fun thing to do on her summer vacation is super creepy. He's not sure he gets all that across, but he makes an effort.

In the end, the choice is taken out of his hands. A trio of nomadic vampires passes through the area in July, and Mary gets bit by the leader before the Argents can drive them away. It's a rough few days, waiting to see if the bit will take, or if all the damage that James asshole did to her will kill her first. Stiles feels bad, because there was maybe more he could have done to drive her away, to keep this from happening. He spends a lot of that time with Derek, because he doesn't think he can be there if she dies. Derek seems to get it, throwing a blanket and some pillows down on his couch for Stiles when Stiles nearly passes out standing up.

"Do you think I'm a monster?" Stiles asks, right before he drifts off to sleep. He thinks he feels fingers brush his hair back off his forehead, but the next morning he thinks he must have imagined it, along with the whispered reply, "No more than the rest of us."

**

Mary survives. She survives, and turns, and suddenly there's a new vampire in town. It's weird to be around her at first, because Stiles can actually breathe around her now. As a vampire, she doesn't smell delicious anymore, and Stiles doesn't have to stay quiet. She spend the first few days with the Argents, getting used to her new body. She takes to it like a natural, though, and even on her first day manages to avoid killing some hunters in the woods. Everyone is shocked (Stiles and Jackson are both a little pissed, since they've both had really hard times controlling themselves over the years). Stiles thinks maybe she was right, that she was born to be a vampire.

It would be a storybook ending, except that it turns out Mary hates Stiles--the real Stiles, the awkward, talkative, flaily Stiles. Apparently she has a thing for laconic stoicism. Stiles jokingly suggests that she might like Derek, then, but she gets this considering look in her eye that Stiles doesn't appreciate. He tells her that Derek is a terrible person, rude and ugly and prone to bouts of shouting inappropriate things in public places. Mary looks skeptical, but she doesn't ask for Derek's phone number, so it's progress.

When Stiles visits the pack, he tells them about how Mary thinks Stiles is the worst vampire to ever vampire, and how she'd probably fall in love with Derek and they could have beautiful mixed-supernatural-race babies that would hate joy and be better than everyone else at everything. Laura laughs until she cries, Cora nearly pees herself, and Erica and Isaac have to prop themselves up on each other's shoulders. Boyd just raises an eyebrow at Stiles, until Stiles sinks too low on the coach to see him over the back cushions anymore.

"Your pack is mean," Stiles tells Derek, when he finally runs away from the pack house to Derek's garage.

"So am I," Derek says, "but that never stops you from coming over."

"You're not mean, you're just...grumpy. And laconic. And stoic. I hate you."

Derek looks up at that, blinking at Stiles.

"Trouble in paradise?" He doesn't smile, but Stiles is pretty sure he wants to. Not for the first time, Stiles really wishes his mind-reading thing worked on werewolves.

"I don't know why I care, I don't even like her," he says, sighing. "It was just nice to be liked, I guess. To have someone actually want, want to spend time around me. Even if it wasn't real."

"She didn't even know you, Stiles," Derek says, walking around the motorcycle towards Stiles.

"And now that she does, she wants nothing to do with me," Stiles laughs bitterly. "Yeah, that makes it so much better."

"You deserve someone who wants you, likes you, for you," Derek says. He's standing right in front of Stiles now, eyes serious and mouth tight. "Not a kid. Someone who knows that everything isn't always alright, and that it's okay to not pretend like it is sometimes. Who likes how much you talk, who doesn't care that you bake too much when you're depressed, or that you hum really loudly when you're happy. You deserve something real."

Stiles stares. It's possibly the most he's ever heard Derek say at one time, and definitely the most he's ever said about anything not mechanical in nature.

"Uh," Stiles says. "I'm. Thanks?"

Derek just nods, before turning away back to the motorcycle. Stiles thinks about saying something, getting his attention, but he can't think of anything to say. He goes back to the house, instead. Most of the wolves have cleared out to their rooms, but Boyd is still sitting in the kitchen.

"That was freaky," Stiles says in greeting. Boyd just looks at him, so Stiles continued. "Derek just said, like, five sentences in a row. And most of them were about me. Is it a new moon or something? Is that like, opposite day for you guys?"

Boyd just keeps looking, squinting at Stiles, until Stiles shifts in his seat.

"How much do you know about imprinting?" Boyd finally asks, voice low. Stiles frowns.

"You mean like, when a man-wolf and woman-wolf love each other very much...?"

Boyd shakes his head, grimacing, and Stiles stops talking.

"It's not like that. It's more...immediate. More physical. The wolf senses someone that would be a perfect match for you, and that's it. Your world narrows to that one person, and no one else is ever going to be an option. You never want anyone else to be an option."

"That sounds terrible," Stiles says, horrified. "What if you hate them? What if you don't get along? What if they hate you? Do you not get to choose at all?"

Boyd shrugs. "It's not so bad. Like I said, it only happens when you're a perfect match, so it's not going to be someone you hate. And yeah, if the other person isn't a wolf, they may not want to choose you, and they do always have that option. But it's a pretty great feeling if they do."

Boyd actually smiles at this, with teeth and everything, and Stiles blinks.

"Wait, are you and Erica...?" he asks.

Boyd nods. "I'd do anything for her, and she'd do anything for me, and we both know that we're in it forever. I can't complain."

Stiles thinks about it for a few seconds, and yeah, that does actually sound pretty nice. He kind of wishes vampires could imprint, too. But they can't, which means there's really no reason for Boyd to be telling him this.

"That's great, man, I'm happy for you," Stiles says, and he means it. "But was there a point to this, other than sharing your joy?"

Boyd stops smiling, his face going back to its typical blankness. "I just wanted to make sure you know it happens, and that the person a wolf imprints on isn't always a wolf, and usually isn't even aware of it. And if that wolf is particularly closed off about his emotions, he may not actually tell the person. And if the person doesn't know it's a thing, then they'd never suspect that perhaps, really close by, there's a wolf who would do anything to keep them safe and happy."

Stiles just blinks at Boyd. He kind of wants to throw in the towel on talking to wolves altogether, at least today, because Boyd is making even less sense than Derek.

"Uh, good to know?" Stiles says. He swears he can see Boyd's eye twitch.

"Go ask Derek to explain."

"Dude, no, he's freaking me out," Stiles says, hands waving. "There is way too much crazy going on here, and I'm not sure I can handle any more."

Boyd rolls his eyes. "Just go."

Stiles goes.

Derek is still in the garage, but he's moved from the motorcycle (Stiles isn't sure why he hasn't finished it already--is he building it out of Lego? Surely it doesn't take a year and a half to fix one motorcycle) to a tool bench, where he appears to be sorting nails by size. Stiles watches his hands work for a while, staring at the muscles shifting in Derek's bare forearms, at the long fingers gripping the nails and moving them into small cardboard boxes. Neither one of them speak for a few minutes, until Derek finally breaks the silence.  
"What," he says. It's not really a question, but Stiles answers it anyway.

"Boyd," he starts, but stops. He's not really sure he wants to ask this, because it seems really personal. And what if Derek imprinted on, like, Mary? Oh god, that would be humiliating on so many levels. Stiles can't do this. He's just going to turn around and walk away, get in his car, and drive back to his house. That's what's going to happen.

"Boyd said to ask you about imprinting," is what his mouth decides to do instead. He slaps a hand over his face, although that never really helps him stay quiet. He stands perfectly still, hoping that maybe if he doesn't move, Derek will forget he's there and also forget he said anything.

Derek's hands still, fingers gripping the nails so tightly that one starts to dig into his palm, drawing blood that drips down onto the bench. Stiles makes a noise, and Derek looks down before dropping the nail quickly. He runs his hands down his jeans, adding streaks of blood to the streaks of grease already present. When he lifts his arms to rest them on the bench again, Stiles can see that his hands are shaking.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asks quietly. Derek seems spooked, which is new and terrifying and something Stiles doesn't want to see, ever. He lifts his hands, palms out to the front, and starts to move slowly toward Derek. "It's okay, dude, just pretend I never said anything, it's cool."

He gets about a foot away from Derek before Derek turns abruptly to face him, standing up and getting in Stiles's personal space. He's still got a crazed look in his eyes, but he doesn't seem to be shaking anymore, at least not by how firm his grip on Stiles's forearms feels.

"I couldn't help it, you know that, right?" Derek says, his fingers digging into Stiles's arm. "It's not something we can control."

"I get it, yeah," Stiles says, heart sinking. Fuck. Derek probably did imprint on Mary, because that's just how Stiles's life is, and Derek wouldn't freak out if it was anyone else. "No big deal."

Derek nods, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath. "I won't do anything, I promise. We don't...we don't have to act on it. I haven't before, and I won't."

Stiles tries to smile. "It's fine, really," he says. "Though I wouldn't mind if you did. Act on it, I mean."

Derek's grip tightens even more, and his eyes widen. "What?"

"Well, yeah," Stiles says, "it's not like I have any claim on her. She can do whatever--and whoever--she wants. So go to town, buddy. Just make sure it's all kosher and consensual and all that."

Stiles tries to look like a supportive friend, smiling and nodding, but his superb acting is cut short when Derek gets a look of pure horror in his face and lets go of Stiles's arms like they're burning him.

"You think I...Mary?" Derek says, his voice sounding shocked.

Stiles shrugs. "I mean, it makes sense. Why else would you and Boyd be telling me about it now?"

Derek runs a hand over his face, glances away, and then looks Stiles right in the eye.

"It's not Mary," he says.

Stiles blinks. "Okay, then. So why tell me?"

Derek swallows, but he doesn't look away.

"Because it's you," Derek says, voice so quiet Stiles almost can't hear him. He's not sure he's heard it right, though, because it sounded like Derek said it's Stiles, and that can't be true.

"What?"

Derek growls. "You heard me. Because it's you, idiot."

Derek is glaring at Stiles now, eyes narrowed and arms crossed against his chest, and Stiles is pretty sure he must look like an idiot, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.

"But you can't," he says stupidly. "I'm a vampire. I mean, I've always been a vampire. Like, when you met me, I was already a vampire. You can't have imprinted on me."

"I can, and I did, and I would have said it's not possible, but then there you were, standing in my doorway all fucking sparkly and asking me to rip your throat out with me teeth, and that's the last thing I could have done in that moment. You don't have to want me, you don't have to return anything, but I just need you to know that I could never hurt you, and if anyone else does, I will probably rip their throat out with my teeth."

Stiles thinks maybe he should be yelling, or screaming, or throwing a fit or fighting, or doing anything that's not just standing here in front of Derek, throat dry and hands twisting in his shirt.

"You can't, though," he tries one last time, "because I want you, and I don't get the things I want."

Derek stares at him for about five seconds before crashing their mouths together. It's hot, so hot (Stiles remembers something about wolves and body temperature), and perfect, and it feels like being claimed. Like a piece of him is owned by Derek now, and that should make him mad, put him off, but instead it feels safe. Even if he screws up the rest of himself, if he makes a mess of everything and there's nothing left worth keeping, he trusts Derek to keep that tiny part of him clean. And maybe, as long as there's a little bit of him worth saving, he can keep starting over, as long as Derek is there to help him try.

It's the best thing Stiles has felt since he was sixteen, and he's going to hold on as tight as he can.


End file.
